A Letter to My Younger Self: From cockroaches to conferences

Every scar has a story. “Letter to My Younger Self” invites you into the reflective hearts of people who've walked winding roads—offering gentle truths, bold lessons, and encouragement for anyone still figuring it out. These weekly letters are full of grace and grit, showing how setbacks shape wisdom and how the past still holds power to teach. From nurturing curiosity to embracing mentorship, each piece is a tribute to growth through lived experience.

Joseph Kariuki, the Regional Senior Lead, Public Engagement, Africa and Europe at International Justice Mission pens this week’s heartfelt Letter to My Younger Self. 

Dear Younger self. 

If you had told me at nine years old that I’d one day lead public engagement across Africa and Europe, I would’ve laughed or called you a liar.

Back then, my life was a roller-coaster of misadventures. At just nine, I had already joined the wrong crowd in school. My mother, desperate to save me from a path she feared would destroy me, took me to the police station for discipline. It was a bold move, but it wasn’t the last. Soon after, she sent me off to Kabichbich, a remote boarding school tucked away in the cold hills of Lelan in West Pokot. The place was isolated, harsh, and felt more like an approved school than a place of learning.

But Kabichbich turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It gave me structure, distance from the chaos back home, and a chance to reset. I emerged with strong grades, while many of my childhood friends in Kitale took darker paths. Some ended up in crime. Some were gunned down. I was lucky and I was changed.

Like many boys from humble backgrounds, I faced countless struggles through school. After Form 4 in 1997, I ventured into acting set books, performing in schools across Kenya. It was a creative outlet, and it gave me a sense of purpose. But survival was still the priority. I sold fuel at Caltex petrol station in Kitale, hawked knives and pencils in the streets of Nakuru, and eventually moved to Uganda for my A-Levels. Makerere University welcomed me with open arms, and I finally got into my dream course: Mass Communication.

Joseph Kariuki attending a UN meeting. /HANDOUT

Then came heartbreak. We fundraised and scraped together Sh40,000 for fees, a fortune for us, only for it to be stolen during a campus event. Thieves broke into my room while I was away. I dropped out. Reapplied in 2002. Dropped out again. The dream was slipping away, but I refused to let go.

I moved to Nairobi and became a pest control technician. The job was gruelling and at Sh100 a day, barely enough for rent in Pipeline. I shared a single room with a friend that we paid Sh2,000 a month, and every day was a hustle. But I kept going. I treated homes for cockroaches, rats, and termites, wearing a blue overall and carrying my sprayer like a soldier on duty.

My journey at Makerere in 2002 took a turn after having an encounter with God. Things changed and I was no longer the same young person who would depend on his own understanding.

And then, in the most unexpected place, a house in Muthaiga, a miracle happened. I was treating the home when the owner struck up a conversation. He saw something in me. Two years later, Rev. Godfrey Dawkins of Trinity Fellowship sponsored my education. I keep praying for him. Just like that, my life took a turn.

At 27, I returned to Makerere in 2004. My peers were graduating, but I was just starting again. In 2008, at 30, I graduated, on my birthday, after a harrowing journey through post-election violence. I remember that day our Akamba bus broke down three times. The roads were lined with displaced families. Burned homes still smouldered. But I was determined to cross the border and claim my degree. It goes without saying that my mother who was so much looking forward to my graduation never made it to Kampala due to the violence.

I became a journalist in my first year at university and was later picked by Uganda’s leading daily the New Vision to write feature stories and later gave me an internship after bagging the Cranimer Mugerwa photojournalism award for topping my class. The award came with Ugh500,000 which was about Sh25,000 then, a fortune for me then.

I later joined Nairobi Star later The Star in 2009 as the first Photo Editor, and by the time I left The Star, I had helped set up the digital department as Digital Editor and then Group Digital Editor for Radio Africa. Journalism gave me a voice, a platform, and a way to tell stories that mattered. It also gave me wings.

I took my first-ever flight at 31 to Germany for a two-month training on multimedia and online journalism. That experience opened doors I never imagined. I found myself in boardrooms, strategy meetings, and eventually, global forums. My highlight came in January this year when I addressed the 1st Congress on Enforced Disappearances hosted by the United Nations in Geneva. Standing there, speaking to a global audience, I remembered the boy in Kabichbich, the pest control technician in Pipeline, the petrol attendant at Caltex and the dreamer who never gave up.

Today, I serve as Regional Senior Lead for Public Engagement at International Justice Mission, overseeing work across Africa and Europe. It’s a role that demands vision, empathy, and resilience, qualities forged in the fires of my past.

Looking back, I’m proud. I didn’t falter. I stayed the course. Every twist and turn from cockroach treatments to conference rooms shaped the man I am today. And if I could speak to my younger self, I’d say: Hold on. The road is rough, but the destination is worth it. You are stronger than you know, and your story will matter.

Everyone has a story worth sharing. If you’ve ever wished you could talk to your younger self—with wisdom, forgiveness, or clarity—we invite you to write to us. Your real, heartfelt letter might just be the encouragement someone else needs today. You may remain anonymous if preferred, but your truth matters. We don’t pay contributors, but we believe in the power of shared experience. Join us in building a collection of life’s hard-earned lessons and gentle reminders.

Be part of this movement. Send your Letter to My Younger Self to: [email protected]